Three Blind Mice  A Comedy in Five Acts
by Viridian Magpie
Summary: When Mary Winchester told her son that angels were watching over him, she didn't ever finish that with 'waiting to jump your bones, darling.' It would have made things easier if she had. Dean/Castiel, Sam,  /  Gabriel


**Three Blind Mice - A Comedy in Five Acts**  
by Viridian Magpie  
_When Mary Winchester told her son that angels were watching over him, she didn't ever finish that with 'waiting to jump your bones, darling.' It would have made things easier if she had.(Dean/Castiel, Sam, (/) Gabriel)_

**Rating:** R (for violence)  
**Warnings:** Innuendo, voyeurism, and porn (Gabriel). Swearing, a little angst, and violence (Dean and Sam). Sex (Dean et al.). Lies, damned lies (Sam), and a brief mention of fangirls (also Sam). May contain sullied nuts.  
**Notes:** Originally written for the Dean/Castiel Secret Angels fic exchange, for **destial**. I used about 3 1/2 of the prompts:  
_2. Gabriel throws Cas a bachelor party to celebrate his entering into a srs bsns relationship with Dean and invites all of Team Free Will. Only problem is Dean wasn't aware they had entered into a srs bsns relationship Cas doesn't get how Dean doesn't get it, because it's obvious to everyone else.  
3. Dean + Gabriel friendship. Gabriel was restored post 5.22 and he finds Dean to thank him in person and decides to help Dean out in return.  
5. Castiel decides to pursue Dean romantically and goes about it biblically. Sam gets it before Dean does and does what any proper little brother would do: makes the whole process more difficult for the both of them._

Many thanks go to **kodamasama** for being an awesome beta.

* * *

PROLOG

So, Gabriel liked watching TV, right? Westerns, quiz shows, soaps - you name it, he's watched it, usually at least thrice because, what with being immortal, he had lots of time. Anyway, Gabriel liked watching TV, and what he liked best of all was lounging on the couch, popcorn in one hand and soda in the other, and cheering, or well, jeering at the idiots in reality shows. They always were idiots, otherwise they wouldn't be on the show. And their little dramas were all so dramatic and life-changingly important, like _if I wear a pink shirt to the party, will Susan think I'm gay? _It was fucking hilarious and entertaining, and Gabriel wanted to be entertained. So, he watched reality shows. A lot.

Sometimes, though? Sometimes the real reality was way more soapish and romcom-ish than these shows could ever hope to be.

Oh, and something else? Gabriel _loved_ audience participation.

ACT I

Sam saw it first. Saw it, called it, and watched Dean splutter and choke on his own protests before deciding that enough was enough and stalking out the door to pick up some 'hot chick at the nearest bar, Sammy. Have fun with your gay daydreams! Or, you know, _don't_.' After a night spent sleeping in the Impala (Sam) and banging a hot chick (Dean), Dean had forgotten all about it, Sam had a crick in the neck, and an Angel of the Lord had once more joined them for breakfast to make cow eyes at Sam's brother.

It was going to be a long post-apocalyptic life.

o

"You gonna eat that?" Dean asked around a forkful of pie, brushing off the crumbs that fell from his mouth. He'd never really grown out of the messy eater stage, and while Sam was kind of resigned to being the Winchester with manners, he still thought that it was, well, a bit disgusting? Yeah, something like that.

"No, Dean," Castiel answered. He put down the fork he'd been holding for the last five minutes and pushed his plate towards Dean.

"Dude, I don't get why you never finish the pie. I love pie."

Yeah, Sam thought, watching Castiel's shoulders twist in what he clearly _thought_ a casual shrug was supposed to look like. Exactly.

"So," Dean said, turning his plate this way and that to look for the juiciest part of the pie or whatever. Sam turned his attention back to his own, eating mechanically. Funny, but he hadn't really felt all that hungry ever since he'd come back from Hell. "You found anything?"

Castiel shook his head once, slowly. "I'm afraid not. There was very little to be discovered in Nineveh and even less in Alexandria. I don't believe the information we seek will be readily available in public archives." He frowned. "I haven't yet searched the more famous private libraries."

"So there still could be something there to help us figure this out," Dean interjected, leaning forward as if getting closer to Castiel might mean getting closer to the solution. Or maybe he thought that if he stared imploringly enough, Castiel would suddenly remember that oh, right, he'd known how to fix this all along.

"Yes. But, Dean,-"

"You're gonna keep looking, yeah?" That was more of an order than a question, and more of a plea than an order; and it broke Sam's heart when he thought about it too much.

"He's got a lot of things to do, Dean," Sam said while Castiel hesitated over how to answer. Dean glared at him, and Sam raised a hand to ward off another rant on how Sam apparently wasn't even _trying_. "I'm just saying it'll take time."

"Yes. Perhaps," Castiel said, "you could ask Gabriel to help."

"If I'd known how to reach him, don't you think I would have tried by now?" Dean growled, waving his empty coffee cup at a passing waitress. "Little fucker took off right after mojoing me away from the dinner table. Gave Lisa a heart attack."

Castiel stared at him as if he didn't quite believe someone could be that obtuse. "Have you tried praying?"

"Praying? To _Gabriel_?"

"He _is_ an archangel, Dean," Cas admonished. "Even if he seems to have forgotten," he continued in an undertone. Sam wasn't sure if they'd been supposed to hear. Then again, Castiel didn't really talk to himself.

"I s'pose. But, hey, you're here now." Dean brightened. "Can't you?"

"No. Gabriel is still hiding. He doesn't acknowledge attempts to communicate with him by his brothers and sisters. Any of us." Well, that figured. "I _have_ seen him sporadically," Cas continued, "but the meetings were of his own choosing."

"Why would he want to meet you if he's hiding?"

"To be an annoyance," Sam muttered because, come on, wasn't that always the case with the trickster?

The side of Cas' mouth turned up. "That, too. But he's also giving me advice. Reaching my goals has turned out to be decidedly more complicated than I thought. He has been helpful...ah."

"What?"

"I have to leave." A moment later he was gone.

"Well," Sam said, stretching out his legs underneath the table now that there were no angelic limbs in the way, "you heard him."

Dean glared at him. "You could do it, too, you know."

"Dude. I'd rather go to Hell."

"Not funny, Sammy."

Sam huffed and dropped his fork, finally giving up on eating. The thought of seeing Gabriel again made his stomach turn. He'd been the first familiar face Sam had come across after crawling out of Hell, and, of course, he'd stuck his nose into Sam's business right away. "I thought you liked him."

"I like Bobby, too. That doesn't mean I'm gonna pray to him," Dean grumbled, then sighed. "You better appreciate this." He waited for the waitress to refill his cup, not even wasting a smile on her, and if there ever was an indication of Dean being in a bad mood, it was this. Then Dean folded his hands and closed his eyes and presumably started to pray. It didn't really look like he was praying, more like he was suffering from constipation. Sam was totally feeling sorry for Dean.

Not.

"Please tell me you didn't manage to start another Apocalypse."

"Fuck you, too." Dean turned towards Gabriel, who lay sprawling in the seat Castiel had just vacated, taking up about three times as much space as he should. Sort of like cat physics, Sam thought; a cat will fill to expand any surface or container it deems as 'mine'.

Gabriel smirked at him and meowed. Oh, seriously.

"Careful, or your face might freeze like that."

Dean snorted, gaze flicking to Sam. "Been telling him that all his life. It never helps."

Har-de-fucking-har.

"Oooh, that one looks even worse."

"That's bitchface #17. He came up with that one 'specially for me after the Nair Incident."

Oh God, his brother was bonding with Gabriel over their love for tormenting him. Sam needed to put a stop to that, stat. "We have a question."

"Yes, I'm awesome in bed, too- Oh, hey, which one is this, Deano?"

"Cross between #23 and #14, I think."

"The question," Sam began again, then stopped, words refusing to come.

"How do we make him normal again?" Dean came to his rescue, and Sam was ... was so _grateful_ for that, shit, he'd even forgive him for being an asshole a moment ago. "Human normal, I mean."

Gabriel looked at them, expression going totally blank. Not a good sign, but Sam hadn't been optimistic in the first place. "I don't think you can. He's half-demon or something."

Yeah, no way was Dean gonna accept that answer. "Can you?"

"No," Gabriel paused, "I can ask around; you're gonna owe me for it. Owe me even more, I mean."

"Fine."

"Dean!"

"Sam, shut up. What do you want?"

"Haven't thought about it yet." Gabriel grinned at them. "I'll let you know."

o

Dean hadn't forgotten all about Sam's recent revelation, he discovered later when the two of them were sitting in the car, making their way to Cresco, Iowa, for a simple salt'n'burn. But, no matter what Dean thought he knew, Sam was _not_ projecting, and if Gabriel ever so much as _winked_ at him, he was going to pull out the Holy Oil and roast that feathery bastard.

"Man, you're just pissed he wouldn't let you sulk in the shadows forever."

"I wasn't sulking," Sam said, even though he had been, a little, maybe. For the most part, though, he'd just been glad that Dean had been living the life Sam had wished for him. No monsters, no angels, no apocalypses. Just a girlfriend, a kid, and the quiet suburban life. Sam would never have taken that from him, but he hadn't gotten a choice in the matter, and yeah, okay, Dean's face when he saw him again convinced Sam that Gabriel hadn't been entirely wrong.

He was still a meddling asshole.

"Yeah? What were you doing then? Hidin' from me? Cause I gotta tell you, if you think you don't-"

"Dean, no. I just, I just needed some time to get back on my feet, alright?" He had, too. Hell had been ... Hell, and he hadn't even been on the rack like Dean, just fighting his way to the surface; just killing and draining more than his fair share of demons along the way to keep up his psychic strength; just closing his eyes to the horrors, to the fact that he couldn't save Adam because Adam was beyond saving when he found him. Sometimes Sam thought that he was beyond saving, too.

Dean kept quiet for the next five or six miles and glared at the road as if it had personally offended him by existing. Still, he didn't crank up the volume of the radio to end the conversation. "You're still a stupid emo-kid, bitch."

Sam relaxed slightly and rolled his eyes. "Better than being the Juliet to an angelic Romeo, jerk."

* * *

ACT II

Three months passed. Sam and Dean did what they always did: they hunted. In between the hunts and the research into Sam's new nature (with - surprise, surprise - _zero_ results), they were hosting their angelic guests - well, Dean was hosting, and Sam was secretly laughing his ass off about Cas' progressively less circumspect attempts to court him. But really, for the most part they killed monsters: a vampire nest in St. Louis, a witch in Chicago, a freaking werepanther in Shreveport, and a couple of ghosts. Always ghosts. It was almost boring. It was even more boring than it should be because Dean kept insisting that Sam did the digging while he, Dean, played chicken with the apparitions.

And if Dean weren't being so stupid about Sam helping more and using his psychic powers instead of pretending he didn't have them again, that cracked rib from the vamp? Wouldn't have happened.

o

"How's Ben?"

Dean put his cell back into his pocket, movements careful and slow. "Fine. He wants to be a drummer; keeps stealing Lisa's pots to practice."

"So, Lisa-"

Dean quelled him with a look; tried to, that was. "We're not hooking up again, Sam. She deserves better than a guy who only turns up every couple of months." Because he was driving his brother from one psychic to the next to fix him and didn't have time to live a normal life. Sam sighed. "I'm-"

"If you say you're sorry again, I'll come over there and kick your ass."

"Dude, you couldn't kick my ass even if your rib wasn't cracked."

"Wanna bet?"

"Nah, wouldn't wanna rip you off." Sam grinned. "'sides, I fully support your decision to hook up with Cas instead of Lisa."

The pillow hit him right in the face, causing Sam to, ah, _accidentally_ explode it with his mind. Picking up the feathers spread all over the room was a bitch. So worth it, though.

o

They stopped at a diner in southern Lousiana. It was hot and loud and overcrowded, but the food smelled delicious, and the place looked clean, and there in the corner sat Gabriel at an otherwise empty table, waving them over. They weaved their way past kids running amok, getting under the feet of the waitresses, and if Sam hadn't been trying so hard to look at anything but Gabriel, he probably wouldn't have noticed it.

Two feet exactly. It was almost eerie; it would be eerie if this weren't Castiel, who had popped up almost plastered to Dean's back, and from then on had proceeded to give everyone their personal space but Dean.

Sam thought Dean noticed it too.

They sat down at the table, Cas and Dean on one side, leaving Sam to sit next to the trickster, and Dean had fucking done that on purpose, Sam was sure.

"You," Gabriel said, pointing a finger at Sam, "are officially unique in the universe."

"I feel very special."

"Uh-huh. You just need blue hair and a name like Moonshine Raven the Third, and you're all set." What? "And sparkles, too."

"Sam Winchester," Sam said, pointing at himself. "Not Edward Cullen. Watch Twilight if you want sparkles."

"I can make my own sparkles. Wanna see?"

"No," Dean interrupted. "Just tell us what you found out."

"Nada. Zilch. Zero. Null. Nil. Nix. Nothing. And a whole lot more of that on top of it."

Gabriel stopped and sipped from the frappe appearing in his hand. His tongue darted out, licking away the milk from his upper lip. Sam realized that he was staring. At Gabriel's tongue. Urgh.

"This is unsurprising. Human bodies aren't supposed to enter the planes of Hell. It hasn't ever happened before."

"Nuh-uh. People going to one underworld or another has happened," Gabriel said, "but most of them were smart enough not to absorb anything they found down there."

"Next time, I'll just stay in the Pit instead."

"Dude, you're not going to Hell again. Not on my watch. I ain't gonna let a demon drag you back there."

Sam couldn't quite keep the flinch from his face, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway because Castiel's carefully blank expression and Gabriel's downright pitying one would have given the game away in any case.

And yeah, his brother could be downright oblivious - or willfully ignorant - but not _that_ much. "What?" Dean asked in a low voice. "What are you keeping from me? Sam?"

Sam...Sam couldn't look at him, even though he hadn't exactly _kept_ anything from Dean. Hell, up until now he hadn't even been one hundred percent sure. He'd had his suspicions of course - and he'd really hoped Dean would never cotton on and that Castiel would never tell him.

"There's no way Heaven'll let him in when he dies, kid. Not with that stain of demonic corruption all over his soul. Even with little bro here in charge, they'd wait till his back's turned and then cast him down.

"If they don't just annihilate him."

"Jesus," Dean breathed. "Jesus, Sam." But, and this was just how Dean was, down to a T, he didn't give up. Sam could see the thought forming on his face.

"Cas," Dean said, whipping around to stare at Castiel, "can't you purify his soul or _something?_ You've done that before!"

Cas looked down, going still - still_er_ that was, and sighed. "No matter how many times you ask, Dean, the answer will not change. I can't help him. Human bodies are simply not supposed to enter Hell. His flesh was filled to the brim with demon blood; then his soul absorbed a great many demons in his attempt to flee. With this, in addition to Lucifer's riding of him on Earth and on his way down, his essential nature has been irreversibly altered. Sam is human no longer, Dean." Cas paused, tilting his head to examine Sam critically. "His soul is bound to his body in ways even I can't comprehend, and both are corrupt."

And now _Gabriel_ was staring at him. "Huh, it really is. Makes me wonder if even death could separate one from the other. 'Course that may mean his soul's gonna be stuck in a rotting corpse forever once he bites the dust. But hey, at least you might not have to go to Hell, Sammikins!"

Castiel tilted his head, expression going thoughtful. "I believe you may be right. This is the point, I think, where a human would offer his condolences," Castiel said. "I'm sorry, Sam."

Well, Sam thought, mind still reeling from the implication, at least Cas was learning social skills. But Sam might be stuck in a decomposing corpse for all eternity, and a simple 'I'm sorry' didn't really help there. Dean, whose jaw was clenched so tight you could see the tendons of his neck standing out, seemed to agree.

"You fix him," he growled. "I don't give a fuck how, but you're gonna find a way!" He jumped up from the chair and stalked past the children and out through the door. Castiel hesitated for a moment but was gone before Sam could tell him to give Dean time to wrap his head around his brother's fate. Sam rubbed a hand over his face, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. His brother wasn't taking this well at all, nope. Might have been better if Sam had never returned at all.

"Ask us to do another 700 impossible things before breakfast, why don't you, Deano," Gabriel grumbled, staring in the direction Dean had gone, maybe even staring at Dean through the wall or something.

"You've already had breakfast," Sam said inanely because yes, indeed, this was the important issue here, clearly. It beat thinking about the horror that would become his unlife, certainly.

"Aaaah, but I haven't had my second breakfast yet, Samwise."

Sam looked down at Gabriel. "If anyone's a hobbit, it's you, Frodo."

"Yeah? But I wasn't the one who lobbed a ring into a fiery pit."

Yeah, no, that had been Sam. So, if Sam was Frodo...no wait, it had been Gollum. So if Sam was Gollum, then Dean was Frodo. Cas, Sam guessed, was probably Gandalf. No, Gabriel was Gandalf. Cas was Samwise - and fuck, this didn't really work as a distraction.

"You might not end up that way, you know."

"'Might' isn't good enough for Dean," Sam protested, even though it was the best they could hope for. "And I'm pretty sure he won't like the part where I'll be going back Down." Sam wouldn't like it either, but he might deserve it, whereas Dean didn't.

Gabriel shrugged and threw his hands up. "He'll just have to live with that, won't he? For a couple of decades at least. Then those two can make kissy faces at each other Up There."

Sam didn't answer because he was thinking furiously. Dean didn't have to live with that, did he? And oh, okay, he'd said he wouldn't lie to his brother again - nothing good had come from it, but this would be different. He needed an ally, though, and Sam wouldn't be able to convince Cas to play along, he was sure. Gabriel on the other hand...

"And why should I help you with that charade, bucko?"

"Because you like fucking with people?"

"When there's a lesson to learn," Gabriel huffed, picking up his glass and swallowing the last of his frappe. He dragged his thumb over his upper lip, wiping away the milky residue, then stuck the thumb into his mouth and pulled it out again with a wet _plop_. "Okay, you know what, I will."

Sam blinked at him, mind still stuck on Gabriel's public display of his oral fixation, and he had one for sure. All that candy was probably a ploy ... oh God, Sam was not thinking about Gabriel's sexual proclivities.

Gabriel winked at him.

Holy Oil, Sam thought, trying to send a mental image of it. Fried Angel Wings. With BBQ sauce.

"Oh, that's gratitude for you. I'm all aflutter with how much you appreciate me."

Sam groaned. It was time to get the conversation back on track, definitely. "You'll really help?" he asked. "Why?"

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at him, wordlessly communicating 'I'm so on to you,' but he let it go. "Gift horses, Sammy. But since you're asking, I wanna see how long you can keep that up."

"And that's all."

"Sure." Gabriel grinned, then tilted his head in a gesture oddly reminiscent of Castiel and started to snicker. "Fucking finally."

"What?" Sam asked, beginning to worry as he realized he had asked a _trickster_ for help. He was probably already planning how to make it as difficult as possible for Sam.

"They're kissing. Well," Gabriel laughed. "Dean's desperately trying to steal Castiel's breath, and little bro is trying to figure out where to put his hands. Most awkward kiss in history. Wet, too."

"Dude, I didn't wanna know that."

"Wanna see what it looks like?"

"No!"

_Snap!_

o

"Dude, why is there a giant plasma screen hanging on the wall?" Dean asked as he and Castiel settled down at the table again.

Sam squeaked. A little. "No reason."

"We were watching Ugly Betty," Gabriel said. "Sam wanted to see it."

Dean pulled a face. "You're getting a little more girly each day, Samantha." An awkward silence descended on the table. Sam struggled to put his game face on, hiding a little behind the hair falling into his face.

"So," Dean said after a while, hands lying stiffly on the tabletop, "had any ideas?"

"Yes, actually. That whole thing with my powers atrophying if I don't use them isn't working, obviously," Sam began, glaring as Dean scowled at him. And really, it had been a fucking stupid idea to begin with. Trying to detox in the panic room hadn't done shit because he didn't even need to drink demon blood anymore. He had the craving, God, the craving, but his powers were still there, whether he drank anything or not. And he'd told Dean that in the first place, but Dean needed more to be convinced, so Sam had spent 72 hours in Bobby's cellar, twiddling his thumbs, while up above Bobby and Dean had done the research into Sam's new state of being because Bobby didn't trust Sam with his precious books. It was sort of understandable even, considering how he'd behaved previously, but still. So fucking boring.

"Anyway, I thought that if I used them a whole lot, they'd wear out. And I'd get closer to human. Or you know, less powered up. I mean, my powers are part of what's binding my soul to my body, so weakening those links would open up some options."

Dean didn't look convinced, not even close. Of course, Castiel's dubious expression didn't help.

"That still wouldn't change you back into a human, Sam," Castiel said, his eyes narrowing. Dean, who was watching not Sam, but Castiel, like a hawk, grew more suspicious.

"But it would make it easier to reverse it," Sam said with as much confidence as he could conjure from years spent conning people and pretending he had a right to stomp all over a crime scene.

"Oh, honestly," Gabriel muttered under his breath.

"I don't-" Castiel twitched suddenly, gaze swinging towards the archangel. "I mean, the idea has some merit," he continued haltingly.

"Really?" Dean asked, staring at Castiel in much the same way the angel usually stared at him. Like trying to read a book written in a foreign language, in strange letters, and backwards, and believing that he'd be able to understand it by sheer force of will. Of course, in this case there was also a bucketload of desperate hope in there.

Castiel didn't meet his gaze, but he nodded stiffly.

"Yay, great," Gabriel exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "I'll stick around to monitor." He beamed.

That particular gift horse, Sam thought as Gabriel's declaration sunk in, was of Greek origin.

* * *

ACT III

Getting to use his powers again was awesome. It made hunting about 3,000 times easier, and about that much more fun, and Sam really needed fun to cheer himself up when he remembered that this wasn't actually helping him in any way, shape, or form. Mostly he tried not to remember, but both Gabriel, who had begun to hang around for the sake of tormenting him, and Castiel, who kept staring disapprovingly and reminding him that Heaven didn't want him - and that Hell was never going to be afraid he'd take over, and yeah, okay, Cas hadn't said that for real - made living happily ever after difficult. Sam thought that wasn't fair since they didn't have any better plan, and it was him who was gonna end up like Doc Benton. Of course, Gabriel told him that life wasn't fair and to suck it up, misery of his own choosing and all that, and fine, _fine_, Sam got that there was a lesson there, but he ignored it because this way, at least, Dean was happy.

It made things if not alright, then at least bearable, and that was the important part.

o

Castiel appeared in their dingy, little motel room, a smelly and bloodsplattered carcass at his feet.

"What the hell is that?"

"A draugr," Sam said, things finally clicking into place; he brought up the tab he'd just closed, checking. God, the irony.

"Okay," Dean said, "what's it doing here, Cas?"

"This is a token of my affection."

"...right." That came out a little muffled because Dean had a hand over his mouth and nose and was trying not to breathe. "That's nice," he wheezed, "but get that cleaned up before I'm back, alright?" He grabbed his jacket and was out the door before Sam could tell him that it was _his_ present, and he should deal with it.

Castiel stood next to the carcass, looking a little forlorn. "Uh, Cas, could you?" Sam gestured towards the definitely dead draugr with one arm, his nose buried in the crook of the other. Shit, that smell.

Castiel scowled but vanished the carcass. The smell lingered, of course, dammit. Trying not to retch, Sam stumbled towards the window and opened it as wide as it would go, which wasn't wide at all but, urgh, better than nothing.

"He isn't pleased."

"No," Sam said. He almost added 'I'm not either,' but Castiel looked kinda downtrodden already. Oh, fuck it. "Cas, the stench."

"Yes?"

"Disappear it. Please."

"The present was both practical and thoughtful," Cas continued his earlier train of thought while Sam breathed in the suddenly clear air in deep, grateful gulps. It sounded as if he was quoting. "I've taken care of a monster that would have given you difficulty and freed up your evening."

"Um," said Sam. "One, Dean likes hunting monsters; he might bitch and moan, but he likes putting a bullet between their eyes." Of course, Sam wouldn't have looked forward to seeing his brother shoot an undead corpse. "Two, I think the point of freeing up Dean's evening would be to spend it with him?"

Castiel nodded, but he remained standing where he was, staring at Sam.

"Uh, Cas?"

"If you don't come up with a better plan soon, Sam, I will tell him." Sam groaned inwardly, thinking he must have gotten whiplash from the speed the topic had just gotten changed with.

"God, Cas. A little more time here? It's only been three weeks."

"Deceit has within itself the seeds of its own downfall."

"But even Dad isn't averse to a little deceit in a holy cause, bro," Gabriel's voice piped up suddenly from the direction of Dean's bed.

"Your sudden appearances aren't disturbing at all," Sam grumbled just as Cas told them that, "Nonetheless, this won't end well. Your brother's no fool, Sam. He believes because he wants to, not because he buys your flimsy lies. "

"Yeah, yeah." Gabriel waved a lazy hand, and Castiel vanished, consternation clear on his face. Sam scowled at him. "Don't get your boxers in a twist, bucko. Just zapped him to his lover."

Gabriel, Sam was sure, just loved mentally scarring him forever. It was a good thing that Cas and Dean probably hadn't had sex yet because _he didn't want to see that. EVER._

"Yeah, no. Don't know how they can stand it. I'm getting blue balls just from watching."

"Too much fucking information."

"No, no. Not nearly enough fucking!" Gabriel leered at him. "Wanna help me out there?"

"Definitely not," Sam said, grabbing his stuff and fleeing, Gabriel's laughter following him out the door. It took him five minutes to find the nearest bar and then another ten to find the second nearest because Dean and Cas were in the first, and no, he could not look them in the eye right now. This bar here was nicer anyway, though not by much. Sam sat down near the door leading to the gents', not too close to avoid the wafts of eau de shat toilette drifting out whenever someone opened the door, and ordered a beer. He got to enjoy it in peace for a full five minutes.

"It's funny; everyone's so focused on your little drama," Gabriel commented, sniffing at the bowl of peanuts before conjuring up his own. "Humans die, you know. Fact of life."

"I know. You've made that point before, like 400 times."

"247, and man, by the end I had trouble finding new and exciting ways to clean his clock."

"Oh, I'm sorry that thinking of ways to kill my brother was hard for you. I don't know how you coped."

"I don't know if you missed this, Winchester, but your stupid pattern of sacrificing yourselves for the other brought about the Apocalypse," Gabriel hissed. Sam wanted to deck him. "I was trying to stop it!" No way.

"I thought," Sam ground out between clenched teeth, "you said it was always going to end with us. You trapped us in TV land, so we'd, quote, 'play our goddamn roles.'"

Gabriel twitched, first meeting Sam's gaze head-on, then averting his eyes and looking down. "I might have lied," he muttered. "Once you broke the last seal...I no longer thought it could be stopped, and you were dragging things out. So, just get it over with. Like ripping off a bandaid; make it quick, you know."

So it would hurt less; and yeah, okay, Sam got that. He did. The time spent waiting, and hoping, and searching for a way out before Dean's contract was due had been horrible in a way unmatched by all the relatively sudden deaths Sam had witnessed. And the inevitability of his own fate post-mortem dragged at him as well.

Sam eyed the original peanut bowl. Okay, so stuffing yourself with junk wasn't the most healthy way of dealing with shit, but to Hell with it.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Gabriel said. At Sam's questioning look, he continued. "That smell of diarrhea from the toilet? Guy didn't wash his hands."

Shit. Fuck. Ew. Sam dropped the peanut. "Thanks."

"Any time. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some divine retribution to visit on the unsuspecting."

o

He just should have stayed away until the next morning, but hindsight was twenty-twenty, Sam thought a couple of hours later while lying alone in the dark in their room and pretending to be asleep while Dean was in the shower.

_"Cas!"_

"Jesus fucking Christ, Dean!" Sam shouted. "If you have to jerk off in the shower while I'm here - and we've talked about this! - can you at least not holler your boyfriend's name?"

"He's not my, I mean, just _shuddup!_"

o

_Weekly World News Headlines - Feed_

_MIDAS CURSE REVISITED_

_We've heard of people turning crap into gold, but this is the first time that we've seen someone turn gold, and everything else he touches, into crap. Ray F. (40) from..._

o

They were in Austin, Texas, investigating a string of disappearances and strange thefts when things at last went south - or north if you looked at it right. A lot happened, actually, and some of it was pretty awesome in a gonna-piss-myself-laughing kind of way. Take the first day of their investigation, for instance. Sam, Dean, and Cas were poking round an abandoned house, described as 'haunted' by the local kids and 'bit ol' and dirty, them kids are just imagining things' by the neighbor when, suddenly, Castiel grabbed Dean's hand and stared deeply and meaningfully into his eyes. Sam tried not to choke on his laughter.

"Dude, I need that hand," Dean said after a very, very long moment, and, oh fuck yes, that was a blush on his cheeks.

"I'm aware." Cas didn't let go. "Dean, all of me that is not devoted to our Father belongs to you. You are...important to me."

"Uh, yeah," Dean stuttered. "Ditto."

Castiel's brows furrowed. "I don't underst-"

"He means he feels the same, Cas," Sam interrupted, digging the nails of his fingers deep into his palms. Castiel tilted his head, gaze snapping first to Sam, then back to Dean.

"Dude. Hand?"

"Yes," Castiel said. "I must prepare. I will see you soon." He vanished.

"Not. A. Word."

"My lips are sealed."

* * *

ACT IV

Sam didn't say anything about Dean's Big Gay Angelic Love Affair for the whole time it took them to drive back to their motel, get a pizza, eat, and go to bed. He didn't say anything the next morning either; not to Dean anyway, and it didn't really count when a visiting archangel read your mind, right? Sam hadn't _said_ a word.

Besides, Sam thought as Dean started the car, and the first notes of 'YMCA' drifted from the radio, the Village People said it so much better.

o

"Harpies," Sam declared as he sank into the shotgun seat, presenting the book he'd borrowed from the local library and copies of various news articles to Dean.

"The chicks who're chicks, right?" Dean replied without taking a look at the fruits of Sam's research. Sam tried not to take it personal but ... _five_ hours spent reading and searching, so maybe his tone was a little short, and it was entirely warranted.

"Yes."

"That fits. Cas and I took a look round the last crime scene, and he found this." Dean twisted around and held a hand out. From the backseat Castiel handed him a long feather. "How do we kill'em, then?"

"Well, either we chase them until they die of exhaustion - personally I think we'd fall over first - or we stab them."

"Great. Let's do the stabbing then."

"Silver will probably work. They're creatures of Air and an Earth weapon-"

"You know, I'm really not interested in the 'why', Paracelsus."

"But you're interested in the where, yeah?"

"Smartass."

Sam ignored this. "Harpies usually go for mountain caves. They like perching but having a dry spot to retreat to." He pulled out the Audubon's Baker Sanctuary leaflet. "Somewhere like this. Local newspaper says that a couple of people reported sightings of 'extremely large birds.' And one of the victims was a birder."

"Then let's spear us some chicks, Sammy."

o

There were five of the monsters in the cave when they finally discovered their hiding place late into the night. Three took off right away, flew out cawing and screeching when they noticed Castiel, the other two turned on Sam and Dean.

"The one on the left is mine," Dean said, aiming his gun loaded with silver bullets, but the harpy was on him before he could get a shot off, and shit, freaking _wings_! Sam fell back, spitting out feathers, slashed with his knife, only got her arm, wing, whatever. She screeched, lunged for him again, and Sam really wished he could spare the concentration to use his powers - that would have been really fucking helpful - but it was all he could do to hold her off. Couldn't see how Dean was doing; shit, Sam hoped he was okay. The harpy beat her wings, made him lose his balance with the wind that- dammit, those things were powerful. A stray 'fuck this!' from Dean, so he was still alive and kicking. And there was the damn harpy again, right on top of him a blink later, driving him to the ground. He struggled, trying to keep those claws away from anything vital, managed to turn them when a gun went off almost at the same time that Sam felt pain exploding on the back of his head, and _shit_, he'd thought they'd accounted for all of the harpies. Sam twisted and ducked, rolling to the side, and the harpy he'd been fighting followed, falling on him, right onto the knife he was holding. The blade went straight into her heart, more accidentally than anything, but Sam couldn't spare the time to congratulate himself for lucking out here, not while there was another, and Dean was probably fighting off both of them. The harpy slumped forward, down, almost burying him underneath her. He kicked her off, tried to stand up to fight the last one...only to come face to face with his brother, gaping at him, mouth hanging open so far Sam could almost see his tonsils. Not a pretty sight.

"What?"

"Sam? You okay?"

"Sure." He looked past Dean, saw the harpy his brother had been fighting dead on the floor. "Have you noticed any more of those suckers? I'm sure one hit me."

Dean stared at him. "I shot you," he said. "From behind. The gun went off. Put a bullet right through your head."

If Dean hadn't looked so serious, Sam would..., no, Sam wouldn't have laughed because that just wasn't funny. He knew his brother, though, had learned most of his tells and the faces he pulled when was trying to get one over on someone, usually Sam, and the face he was sporting now wasn't one of them. Sam swallowed, a sudden lump of fear lodging in his throat that had nothing to do with harpies or the adrenaline still rushing through him. He lifted his hand and touched the back of his head, felt around. It came away wet with blood, but there was no wound, not even a lump.

"I guess that means I won't have to worry about dying anymore."

"I shot you."

"I'm still alive, Dean."

Castiel appeared at the cave entrance, looking flushed and breathless. Sam took it as an opportunity to change the topic or give Dean time to process this while he, uh, he just ignored it for the moment. This might become a pattern, the repressing. It didn't feel like a bad idea. "What took you so long?"

The angel glowered at him. "The harpies I was chasing had a lot of stamina."

"They're dead now?"

"Yes."

"Ah, good," Sam said, noticing that he'd started to rub the back of his head, where the wound should be. So much for repressing.

"Cas," Dean choked out, stopped, licked his lips. "Cas, we got a problem."

o

"I know nothing more than what I've told you already, Dean," Castiel said for the fourth time since they'd arrived back at the motel and the twentieth time overall. "It makes sense, however. He was ridden by a fallen angel, filled with demon blood. He's-"

"Bit demonic, bit angelic, bit human. Seems like one of those things protects him 'gainst stuff that would kill the others." Gabriel paused and took a bite from his Mars bar. He'd shown up almost as soon as Sam had started praying, which on the one hand, yeah, nice, on the other, oh freaking Hell, _no_. "'Course we haven't tried to stab him with an angel blade."

"So, assuming the blades wouldn't work either, can our little Duncan MacLeod here be killed by anything then?" Dean asked.

"Dunno. Try it out." Gabriel shrugged.

"What? Dude, if it works, I'm dead!"

Gabriel rolled his eyes and wriggled his fingers at him. "C'mon, kiddo. I'm sure you haven't forgotten your little Groundhog Day adventure."

"That would still sent me straight to the Pit, wouldn't it?"

"Thick as a brick. Do you really think I let the soul of our Doc Faustus here scamper off to Hell when I killed him? I can't just stroll into Luci's home whenever I feel like it. I'm awesome, but not that awesome."

"We are not killing Sam," Dean interrupted, glaring at Gabriel when it looked like the trickster was going to argue.

"It's practical, Dean," said Cas.

"And meaningful," Gabriel chirped.

"Knowing your own weaknesses-"

"No!"

"-is very important, Sam, Dean." Castiel sighed. "Let us test the non-lethal methods at least, then."

So they did that, and while the whole process sucked, Sam was pleased to discover that Holy Water didn't hurt him and salt didn't stop him, and a Devil's Trap was just a weird symbol on the floor. He was really glad for it, too.

The angelic banishment sigil didn't do shit either.

"I wonder," Castiel said, tilting his head, "if you even need sustenance."

o

Gabriel was leaning against the wall of the motel room, scowling at nothing and everything.

"I don't know why _you're_ still here," Sam grumbled, nibbling on the sandwich he'd bought himself after three fucking days of not eating anything. And yep, he 'did not need sustenance.' Yeehaw and woohoo.

"My brother's gonna get his heart broken, you know."

"I'm pretty sure Dean returns his feelings," Sam pointed out.

"You both will," Gabriel continued, ignoring Sam entirely.

"Dean and I aren't like that," Sam said reflexively, then tried very, very, _very_ hard not to think of the slash fic about them.

"Don't strain yourself. I already know about that." Shit. "Who do you think made Wincest popular?"

Oh, God. No.

"And did it clue you in that you were too dependent on each other? No, of course not. All that effort is entirely wasted on you."

Sam decided to ignore Gabriel's reasoning, focusing on banishing the image of the Archangel Gabriel making fangirls write porn from his mind. Knowing who Gabriel was made imagining this all too fucking easy.

"Oh, no," Gabriel said cheerfully. "I wrote a lot of it myself. It did become popular pretty quickly, though."

Fuck his life. Sam dropped the sandwich into the trash; it didn't really taste all that great anyway.

Gabriel's expression turned serious again. "He won't live forever, and eternity is a damn long time to spend alone, Sammyboy."

Sam closed his eyes. Shit, he hadn't thought about that, should have. He would be alone down here on earth. Castiel...Castiel could visit Dean in Heaven, but Sam knew better than anyone what Heaven looked like exactly, and it just wouldn't be the same. "Unless you know of a way to turn him immortal, I don't know what we can do about it."

"I can't do that. That sort of thing is a gift of the gods, and I'm not really one of the Aesir." Gabriel stopped short and blinked. "Now there's a thought."

"What?" Sam asked, but Gabriel had vanished, and those damn angels really needed to stop doing that. Talk about eternally having the last word.

Sam stared at the empty space for a while, wondering if and how Gabriel was going to do what Sam thought he would and if he'd succeed.

o

Sam really, really didn't want to think about it, but the damn thought kept intruding on his mind. Gabriel. Had written porn. About him.

And what he knew of Gabriel led him to believe that expressions like 'manmeat' and 'strong arms of his passionate love' and truly horrible puns had showed up a lot.

All of this should have left him in a constant state of horror, but instead he began to find it hot.

Which horrified him on an entirely different level.

o

Singer's Salvage Yard never really changed. There was a whole lot of dust, a whole lot of cars, and a whole lot of being accused of idiocy and general incompetence and attempts to give old men a heart attack. It made Sam feel at home, somehow: sitting in the kitchen, drinking a beer, and catching Bobby up on the latest developments while Dean gave the Impala a much needed overhaul, and Cas...stared at Bobby. Bobby, who was unimpressed by anything really, stared back. "What now, boy?"

Castiel leaned forward and laid a wad of cash down on the kitchen table.

"Not that I don't appreciate it, but why're you handing me money?"

"Dean said you're the closest thing he has to a father among the living."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

Bobby waited a beat, but it seemed Castiel thought he'd made himself clear. "That still don't explain the money, angel."

Castiel breathed in, looking like he was fortifying himself. "I'm asking for Dean's hand. In marriage. I was advised that this is what one does."

Bobby was far better at keeping a straight face than Sam was and faster on the uptake, too, because Sam was still thinking about marriage.

Dean's.

With Castiel.

"So, bride price?"

Castiel nodded seriously. Bobby's mouth twitched. He coughed.

"Guess some people think you can't do better than an angel. Don't mean _I_ think that way or anyone who's ever met any of you, but I s'pose you're not too bad. So, you got my approval."

Castiel turned towards Sam and opened his mouth to speak, but Sam cut him off because he didn't think he could keep the laughter in if he heard that line again. "Yeah, yeah. Mine too." Then, because that was the sort of thing you said when family got married, "If you hurt him, I'll kill you."

* * *

ACT V

They checked into a motel on the outskirts of Arden, Arkansas. While Dean held a short 'conversation' with Castiel - and this was so a euphemism for making out; not that Sam wanted to have thought of it, but he had and couldn't unthink it now - Sam got them two motel rooms. Two because he wasn't ever, ever going to walk into them sucking face again, and the way things were going there...let's just say, if they hadn't had sex with each other yet, they were going to soon, and Sam did _not_ want to be present for it, accidentally or not.

He might as well not have bothered.

The door of room 182 opened into a gaudily decorated suite with a champagne fountain in the center and twenty-odd college students getting progressively drunk.

His brother, who had gone into 174 with Cas, stood right before him, hand hovering near the holster of his gun. Castiel made a grab for Dean's wrist and shook his head. That was lucky because Sam was sure his brother would have shot the congratulatory banner that dropped from the ceiling in that moment otherwise.

"Surprise!" Or maybe he'd have shot Gabriel. "Come in, come in. Here have some Dom Pérignon." The angel advanced on them, a couple of champagne flutes trailing him through the air like a gaggle of geese that had imprinted on something because it had wings, and there was no other mommy-like figure around.

"Like you imprinted on Dean, you mean?"

"What?" Dean asked, while Sam glowered at Gabriel, trying to push the glass of champagne away when it bumped into his hand; it stubbornly refused to move. Yeah, there was a family resemblance to the mother there. "Just tell us what the fuck is going on here."

"Why, a wedding shower, of course! Now, kick back, have fun, let your hair down, etc., etc. Oh hey! Drinking game, awesome idea." Gabriel turned and wandered off toward another corner of the room.

"I'm not staying here," Dean said. Then, "_Shit!_" Sam turned, taking in Dean's frustrated flailing and the sudden lack of a door.

"Cas. Air Angel. Pronto."

"I believe my brother wants us to stay."

"No shit, Sherlock. But _I_ don't wanna stay."

"I do," Cas said. "It's a nice thought, even if Gabriel is being heavy-handed." He raised his own glass, eying the contents critically before draining them in one go.

"Dude." Dean turned towards Sam.

Sam shrugged. "Guess we have no choice but to enjoy ourselves." Well, Sam was enjoying himself already. Sure, Gabriel had dragged him into this, too, but he was kinda used to that now (and he might have been upset if he hadn't been invited actually; just, a warning would have been nice). Dean, on the other hand, hadn't had a lot of experience dealing with Gabriel Getting His Way aside from their trip to TV Land, and Sam maintained that _he_ had been the one who'd had to play the shittiest roles. STDs, Japanese quiz show punishments, freaking KITT.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No," Sam said, finally caving and taking a sip from the champagne glass in his hand. Dean's was still bopping against his clenched fist.

"Damn Gabriel," Dean grunted. "Okay. For you, Sammy, because you're my brother."

"Uh. Alright?"

"I'm fine with it, man," Dean continued, patting Sam's upper arm. The champagne took the opportunity to dart right into Dean's opened hand. Dean tried to shake it off, but it wouldn't budge. The liquid even stayed inside when he turned it upside down. "Yeah, I mean, it's a step-up from that demon bitch."

No. _No way._ Sam took a breath, held it, then let it out _slowly_ for added dramatic effect - menace; he was breathing menacingly to make his brother understand that he wasn't as funny as he obviously thought - and because he needed a moment to get the desire to shout under control. "We're not- I'm not- It's not like that!" Okay, didn't manage to control it.

Dean snorted at him. "Right, I think this is a case of the lady protesting too much, Samantha. You're having a wedding shower!"

"Dean, I don't think you understand." Castiel frowned.

"No, no. I understand just fine. Sammy's got himself a special angel friend, and they wanna live happily ever after."

Castiel's frown deepened. He looked ... thunderous; yeah, that was the word.

"Oh, is that the happy groom-to-be?" a new voice inquired from the side. Sam's gaze snapped to the right to take in a guy wearing a daisy chain on top of his head and holding a flashlight in his hand that he kept waving around. He looked a bit like a college jock.

"That's right," came Gabriel's voice from right behind Sam.

"Congrats then," the man said, turning towards Castiel and pulling an ornately carved box out of thin air. Okay, not a college jock. "For you and your honey," he said, handing the box to Castiel. "Wait until you're alone to open it."

"Thank you," Castiel said.

"Wait," Dean interrupted. "The party's for Cas? I thought...," he trailed off, looking like he'd just been slapped. His brother was a total idiot. "Oh, okay, fine. Congrats. Hope you'll be happy, man."

"That will largely depend on you, Dean."

"Don't let me stop you. Have fun. Make lots of baby angels. Or sing together. Or whatever it is you do." Trainwreck, absolute trainwreck. Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Gabriel beat him to it.

"For Dad's Sake, I knew you were thick; I didn't think you were that thick!"

Castiel ignored the interruption, focusing solely on Dean. "Unwise. Human-Angel hybrids are considered an abomination. And you cannot get pregnant in any case, Dean." Dean gaped at him.

Not possible, but Sam would totally pay to see him pregnant. He'd deserve it, too, for all those stupid renditions of "Sam and Gabriel, sitting in a tree" Dean had subjected him to after the Village People Incident.

Gabriel looked at him. "How much?" He murmured in an undertone.

Sam blinked. Shit.

"What?" Gabriel asked. "Every angel should have his own Winchester, and I have a lot of siblings. We should all go about reproducing A.S.A.P."

While Sam was apparently thinking about his brother barefoot and pregnant - oh God, Cas as the father - Dean found his voice again. "Are you saying it's for us?"

"Who else would it be for, Dean?" Okay, Castiel looked and sounded really pissed off now. "I have died three times for you, wiped from existence entirely. During the last year, I spent all the time I could spare from bringing new order to our home by. Your. Side." By this point, Cas, who had advanced on Dean during the whole tirade, had him backed up against the wall, chest pressed against chest. Dean's eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates, and he was flushed and breathing heavily. Castiel took the opportunity to lean in and kiss him. After a second, Dean's arms locked around him, one hand on Castiel's neck, the other on his ass.

Sam really wished they'd get a room.

_Snap!_

"Did you just-"

"I got them a room, yes." Gabriel snorted. "Why, you wanted to tag along?"

"Fuck, no."

"Thought so."

Gabriel grinned and sidled closer, throwing an arm around Sam's waist. "Anyway, now that we finally got our brothers to hump the shit out of each other for all eternity, how about we do some humping of our own?"

"Not. Gonna. Happen."

Not least because Dean wouldn't ever let him live it down.

Gabriel really, seriously, unbelievably _pouted_ at him. "Oh, Sammy, you break my heart," he said, grabbing Sam's hand and pulling it towards his chest. Sam glared at him, and dammit, no, he wasn't going to blush, he wasn't. _Dean_ was the angel smitten Winchester. And if Sam was turning red, it was because he was _angry_ and _furious!_

Gabriel just looked at him, eyes opened wide and expression guileless and innocent, and oh, fuck.

"He got that from you, didn't he?"

"Little bro needed some relationship advice, yeah," Gabriel answered, finally letting go of Sam's hand. "Worked though, didn't it?"

"I thought I was gonna piss myself laughing," Sam said honestly.

"Glad you appreciate my humor!"

"Young love," the...college jock sighed from beside them. "So precious."

"Not love," Sam bit out. Fondness _maybe_, if Gabriel wasn't being an ass at the time.

"Sammy, Sammy." Gabriel sighed. "And that after I already got your brother's permission to court you!"

...

He was going to _kill_ Dean.

* * *

EPILOG

So, Gabriel wasn't totally without shame, alright? He didn't watch his brother have sex with the Winchester kid because yeah, no. He just stretched out his awareness a little after enough time for a round or two had passed because he really wanted to know if his playing Dear Abby to Castiel had worked out well.

Seemed like it had, though, judging by the contentment rolling off both of them. Gabriel smirked and patted himself on the back. All's well that ends well and all that.


End file.
